Terrestrial Talent
by Doyoueverwonder
Summary: This story centers on a new Talent on Earth... Gollee Gren is in it, a little bit of Jeff... I'm not sure if I like it just yet, so be as harsh, yet honest, as you can in your reviews. : Nothing is off limits, hit the grammar, spelling, plot, concepts, an
1. Talent

_**Earth, NorthEastMetro, Old New York**_

Paul buried his face into his hands, trying to protect his eyes, as a flurry of stones pelted him. Years ago, his parents had had him tested for Talent, as all children are at some point or another, expecting him to fail that test, and go on to follow his father into the Navy as an engineer. The only problem was Paul not only passed the test for Talent, but he scored as a potential High Talent.

Of course, his parents were proud, but that wasn't what they wanted for their boy. So for years, they forced him to play rough and tumble games, ignoring his more pacific nature. They made him try out for the Rugby team, and when he was cut, his father called in a favor to get him back onto the team. When he wanted to learn music from one of the old neighborhood women, his mother made a discrete visit to the woman, explaining that no son of hers would waste his childhood indoors tickling ivory to see if it would giggle.

After some time, Paul gave in to his parents' will, and tried to emulate the other boys. He played their games, laughed at their jokes, and in general spent his time wearing a mask. Until one day, all that changed.

He was at school, trying hard to play the game properly. He was supposed to hit the ball, then run around the diamond, and get back "home", so he could score a point for his team. He had already been to bat once, and had struck out spectacularly, swinging at every pitch, trying to smash the ball out of the field, like he'd seen other boys do. That failure had cost him. His team glared at him, called him names, and did their best to get him to leave the field, saying 'if we lose him, it'd be like gaining another player.'

Standing above home plate, he eyed the pitcher, watching his eyes shift, focusing deeply, when suddenly it was like his mind expanded like a balloon.

_I'll show this kid, a curve ball close enough to shave some skin off his belly'll teach him not to mess with me._

Shocked Paul didn't even flinch when the ball came zooming at him, missing his stomach by a close inch. The Umpire called it a ball. Paul's team rejoiced, thanking various gods that he hadn't swung. Their joy washed over Paul, leaving him slightly dazed.

_Fine, don't swing punk. How about a fast ball?_

The pitcher's arm went back, his body flew, and the ball came roaring at Paul, straight for the plate. Panicking, Paul wasn't sure what to do, he'd never really figured out when to swing… just as it seemed too late, he felt his team all think at once: _Swing!_

Putting as much muscle into it as he could, Paul swung the bat, sending the ball high and far. Shocked, he stood there, watching as it landed in the field, players chasing it, to throw him out.

"Run you idiot!" His team captain yelled, and was echoed by most of the boys on the bench.

Dropping the bat, Paul took off running, his legs pumping, his chest heaving. He'd never had to run for his base before. Before, he'd always been walked or hit by a bad pitch… he'd never actually hit the ball. A smile crossed his face, triumph, joy as he ran. As he rounded third and started down the home stretch, something went wrong. The catcher had the ball now. He was standing over Home plate, an evil glint in his eye. Shocked, Paul turned and ran for third again, hoping to be safe there. The catcher's arm was faster than Paul's feet, and the ball made it there first, allowing the third baseman to chase Paul back towards Home. Dimly, Paul was aware that both teams were chanting: "Pickle, Pickle, Pickle!"

Unsure what to do, Paul stopped, standing still directly between the two players. A wicked grin came to the catcher's face, as he walked up, and was about to tag Paul out, when suddenly, he crumpled to the side as if knocked over by a large man. Seeing his chance at a score, Paul ran for home, leaping over the fallen catcher. When he made it, he smiled at his team, looking for their answering smiles, but none were there.

"How did you do that?" "Are you some kind of FT&T freak?" "Talents can't play!" "Get him!"

That was when the rocks started flying.

Scared, Paul dropped into a fetal position, covering all the vital parts, crying softly. When it hit him.

_I stopped the catcher from touching me, didn't I? Can I do it again?_

Thinking really hard, screwing his face up into a contorted grimace, he thought… tapping into the energy stored in his brain, using a new set of "mental muscles" and reached out with them. All the rocks within two feet of his body halted mid-air, the new ones that arrived seemed to get stuck in thick jelly as they flew. Paul stood then, his body taught with stress and anger.

"_Just because I am different does not mean you can assault me."_ His voice was deep, and menacing, his mental 'voice' carried the thoughts into all but the lamest minds. _"Go now, before I decide to throw these rocks back at you."_

The threat was an idle threat, as he was already near exhaustion from that little demonstration, but none of the boys on the field knew that, nor did the boy filling the role of Umpire. They all fled, but that wasn't the end of the problem. When Paul arrived back home, his mother and father were both sitting on the sofa, in the family room.

"Paul James McHenry, come here. We have something to discuss with you." His mother's voice was iron cloaked with silk. She was angry, and he could tell it.

"Yes, Mother? Father?" He said quietly, as he stood in front of them, like a soldier waiting for undesirable orders, or a prisoner waiting to hear if his execution was granted a stay.

"I just received a call from some of the mothers of the boys you played with today. It seems their boys all came home telling a story about how you're a Talent, and how you cheated in the game and then, when they exposed it, you attacked them. Now, tell me the truth, what happened?" Her tone was sharp as knives, and her eyes even sharper, so Paul gave as quick an accounting as he could, hitting all the details, even about his use of Talent.

It was his Father who spoke next.

"What, you weren't able to win using your own wits, so you had to cheat? No boy of mine cheats to win a game." He snarled, "You're not going back to play that game until you've apologized to every boy on the other team. I expect you back in the park playing tomorrow afternoon. Until you have apologized, no Vids, no music, and no leaving this house, except on pre-arranged trips with your mother or me."

"But it's not fair! They were stoning me! Stoning! That's barbaric!" Paul's voice shot up an octave, as he tried to defend himself.

"Well Paul, if you hadn't cheated, they wouldn't have reacted as they did." His mother cut in. "You will do as your father said, and you will not use that **Talent** again." Her voice soured on the word Talent, and Paul knew there was no hope of changing their minds. They had already set his life in motion, planning out every detail for him. He wouldn't be surprised if they'd already chosen a spouse for him.

He politely asked to be excused, and was granted permission to go to his room, where he found all his vids, books, music, and writing tools gone. They hadn't even waited to see if he was really guilty.

Angry again, Paul stretched out with his mind, lifting the few things left in his room. It exhausted him, and every few moments he had to sit down to rest, letting his body build its stamina. After about two hours, he slumped into his bed, physically limp from the effort of all that lifting. As he laid there, his mind idling, thoughts drifted into his mind, like smoke carried by a breeze.

_What will we do? He can't be a Talent and go into the Navy!_

_My only son, my only child, a freak._

_He looked just like his father right then… so young, yet such a fool._

Retreating back into his own mind, blocking out those invading voices, his parents' voices, Paul sank into a shallow sleep. His body and mind rested, but he was still aware of what was going on around him. He knew when his mother looked into his room, to see if he was still there, he knew when his father came to stare at the freak he had helped make. That night, Paul skipped dinner, in favor of spending the evening in bed, recuperating from both his ordeal and his newly discovered powers.

When the morning came, Paul felt like a new creature. His body felt strong, his mind was fresh, and he was ready to face the day. The morning's rituals flew by rapidly as Paul tested his new ability. He could lift most things he needed to, usually things he could lift by hand anyway, but he needed to be able to see it. As for hearing other peoples' thoughts, that came and went as he raised and lowered his walls. At just before eight o'clock, Paul was ready to go to school, so he said a polite goodbye to his mother and father, and walked out the front door.

His path to school took him by a small coffee stand, where he bought a grande latte and a scone. Munching those delightful treats, he made his way to the large education center, where all the children and young adults from this area went to school. Paul had just turned 14, and as such, he was scheduled to take an aptitude test, to see where his talents and skills lay. That test was supposed to be in a few weeks, but when Paul arrived at the school, he was greeted by a Principal's aide.

"Mr. McHenry? I'm to take you to the counseling office." Her voice was a soothing alto, and from her slightly stiff movements, Paul knew she was an android. Sighing, he followed her, wondering why they had moved his test forward, worrying he wouldn't be ready for it.

When they arrived, the android opened the door and gestured for Paul to enter. Once he did, she firmly shut the door, and Paul could hear her heels clicking as she walked down the hallway. Inside, he signed in, and took a seat, waiting for them to call his name. Before he had even opened his bag to take out the lone book his parents hadn't confiscated, he heard his name called.

"Paul McHenry?" The receptionist said it as if she'd never heard his name before, as if she wasn't the one he'd just checked in with. "The advisor is ready for you now."

Grumbling, Paul grabbed his bag and walked back to the Advisor's door. Ms. Addams-Self had been helping Paul schedule his classes since he was 10 years old, and as of yet, she'd never managed to place him in a class he would actually like. When her door opened, Paul was surprised to see the advisor and a man in a deep green FT&T uniform.

"I am sure the testing will go fine, Mr. Gren, you needn't be here… Oh, hello Paul, please, come in. This is Mr. Gren, from FT&T. If you don't mind, he'll be sitting in on your test today." Her voice was sickly sweet, as if she thought the kids she dealt with weren't smart enough to see through her vapid facades.

"Why would he want to sit in on a routine Ap-test? I'm sure he took one once." Paul tried to keep the sarcasm under control. He normally wasn't an antagonistic person, but he disliked Ms. Addams-Self with a passion, and couldn't stand her presumptuousness.

Paul could feel her ire leaking off her mind, as she tried to think of a suitable explanation. Mr. Gren seemed to not leak at all… as if he was holding his mind back. Blood rose to Paul's cheeks when he realized why Gren didn't leak, because Talents can control that.

"Yes Mr. McHenry, we can. I assume you could too, if you tried." Gren's voice was firm, yet soft, polite too. Paul blushed deeper, and tried to stammer out an apology. "No need, for an apology or the test. Ms. Addams-Self, I can see Paul has the requirements we want, I'd like to take him to our testing facility. He will be back by the end of the day."

Without waiting for her answer, Gren guided Paul out of her office, out of the building, and into a waiting parked car. Inside, Gren spoke to the Voice Address system.

"Take us to Blundell." With a soft whir, and a quick rush, the car sped off, heading for the sea. "Now, Paul, I'm sure you have questions, and I can answer them, but let me try before you ask any." He winked at Paul, and then took out a file.

"This report was filed yesterday evening, by a certain woman whose son you are acquainted with. She claims you attacked him using Talent, and that you are a menace to others." Paul started to speak, but Gren just smiled. "When I interviewed the boy, to see if the story checked up, it was obvious he was lying, so the case is dismissed, and the woman will be paying a hefty fine for filing a false incident report."

Replacing the folder, Gren looked Paul in the eyes. "Now, the one thing the boy was telling the truth about is that you are Talented. Obviously, too. From what I saw back there, you've got both telepathy and telekinesis, a good combination. FT&T is always looking for people with that combination to station at Towers all around the league. We need people like you to help keep our planets connected, and we need to get as many as we can yesterday." Here he paused, and looked out the window.

"Nothing says you must, as a Talent, serve in FT&T, it's voluntary, and paid. You have rights as a citizen, and as a minor. However, if you sign on for training now, and move into Blundell Tower, you will begin earning your salary now, and be able to be placed at a functioning Tower by the time you reach your majority. First, before we begin that process, we need to test you."

On the word 'you' the car came to a stop, the doors whooshed open, and they were standing outside a massive cube shaped building.

"This is Blundell. Here is where Earth Prime does his work, where FT&T is administered, and the center of our universe." He said the last part with a wink, and little barb of mental sarcasm. Gren lead Paul through a gate, and into a security check station. Pausing long enough to hand them his card, Gren began talking again.

"This is security, these men are T-8s, trained to read minds of people entering Blundell, and to search their bags for dangerous items." He watched as Paul was quickly interrogated by an older looking T-8, who grumped at some of Paul's ambiguous answers. Eventually, the T-8 handed Paul a plastic badge, with his photo and a serial number on it.

"This badge is good for life, you are cleared to enter Blundell whenever you choose, though, some areas are restricted still." The 8 said firmly. "Return the badge before you leave the premises or you will be fined for trying to steal FT&T property."

Gren motioned for Paul to follow him, and kept his chuckles inside until they were far enough away. "Paul you have to let them be as serious as they are, or else they'd lose all self-respect. I think what was bothering Nick there was more about how tight your mind is, than how you answered questions. He can normally read anyone who checks in there. He only has problems with 4s and above. That speaks well of you."

A few hallways later, Paul was distinctly lost, but still with Gren, until finally, they reached a door. It opened with a soft sigh as Gren palmed the press plate, and admitted them into a 'soft' feeling room. Everything about the room said comfort, and immediately made Paul feel drowsy. He sat in the cool metal chair Gren offered him, and suddenly, his mind focused again.

"Now, Paul, I am going to test you on kinesis. No one expects you to have it mastered, and **what** you do isn't as important as the readings we get from your mind. Just do as I do." At that, Gren went silent, and 'lifted' a small table from the other side of the room, bringing it to his side. Paul strained, reaching for a duplicate table, and when his mind found it, he 'lifted' it as gently as he could, setting it down just as gently.

Next, he had to fold a paper airplane with his mind, then fly it in a complicated pattern. That was followed by containing a ball of water when the glass was pulled off of it. Creating steps out of thin air was next, and that was followed by lifting himself into the air.

Gren smiled and sighed. "Now, we're going to test your 'path ability. No more verbalizing until I tell you it is alright."

_Now, explain to me what happened yesterday in the park._ Gren's mind voice was as firm and strong as his vocal one.

It took a few minutes, but Paul relayed all the details he could, listing them out, until it came to him.

_May I just show you?_ He asked. At Gren's smile, Paul drew the man's mind into his own, bringing his memories to the front, playing them in order of importance, in chronological order, and in order of emotional strength.

When it was done, Paul let Gren's mind go, and collected himself back into his own mind.

"You're good at this Paul. Almost too good. Are you sure you've never trained before? Was yesterday your first use of Talent ever?" His tone was firm, but not cruel.

_Yes, I've never used Talent… it was always ignored at home. Mother and Father hate it._

Gren's eyes filled with sadness, but he kept his mind firmly shut to the boy. "It's OK to use your voice Paul. In fact, whenever addressing anyone, first use vocal means, mental only if vocal does not work."

The man walked to the door, and picked up a clipboard, writing a few things into the LCD screen, he then turned back to Paul.

"Tomorrow, I want you to report here to Blundell. Consider yourself hired. I will be sending your parents a letter via courier, so they will know about this when you get home. Now, back to school with you." Paul felt Gren's mind wrap around his own, and suddenly, with an odd use of kinesis, Paul was back at school, dropped safely in front of the building.

* * *

Gren walked quietly down the halls of Blundell, his long time home, and place of business. Entering the Functioning Tower, Gren waved at a watchful T-4 guard, and reached for Jeff Raven's mind.

_Jeff, are you available for a quick consult?_ Jeff never insisted on formality unless there were others near by, his wife included.

_Sure Gollee, just let me set this freighter down with my lovey, and I'll be with you shortly._

Gollee Gren looked about Jeff's outer office, scanning the desk, making sure Jeff was up to date on all he needed to be. The far door opened quietly, and the thick, graying frame of Jeff Raven walked into the room.

"Gollee, what kind of trouble are you stirring up now?" His voice was stern, but his eyes were filled with mirth. That Denebian farm boy never grew out of his love for danger.

"Well Boss, we received a request from the local PD, asking us to check into a possible Talent Violence incident…" Jeff cut him off there.

"Not like the riots again? We can't have people trying to kill Talents just because they're different." Anger and pain filled his voice, and his mind, which was still wide open from his day's labors.

"No, nothing like that. The PD was told that a Talent had attacked a bunch of boys at a park. I investigated, and found out it was almost entirely lies. The woman who reported it, merely told the PD what her son had told her, but she didn't even ask any questions. She assumed the worst of the Talented boy." Gren's teeth grit as he thought of that woman and her idiocy.

"Long story short, Boss, the Talent the boys were harassing is Prime potential. He's got good ability, put me through my paces when he's only been able to use the abilities for a day. I'm not saying he's got the skills, or anything… he's rough, really rough, but the potential is there. I want him here where he can be taught and trained. The problem is his parents are anti-Talent." Gren held his hands open, as if giving the problem to Jeff.

"By Jeeze, Gollee… I'm not allowed to just swoop in and kidnap a minor; he is a minor, right? Of course, otherwise you'd have him contracted by now. We can only do so much." Jeff's eyes unfocused, and he began to think again. "Gollee, why don't you go and meet the boy's parents? Try to talk them into it, if that doesn't work, we can try emancipating the boy… The lawyers will love that."

* * *

It was bright and clear out as Gollee arrived in front of the McHenry home. A voice command kept the car from leaving him, leaving it to circle the block while he was inside. Checking his watch, he noted that he should have an hour before Paul would be expected. Knocking at the door, he waited for an answer. Moments passed, and suddenly, the door opened.

"Please leave. That uniform will draw attention. We don't want anything to do with you." Mrs. McHenry said in a tight voice, and began to close the door.

"Ma'am, it's about Paul. Please let me inside." Gren said in a polite tone, radiating calm and peace using empathy in a way some would consider a breach of Talent ethics. Sometimes it was necessary to 'adjust' the feelings of others.

"Fine, please come in." She said with icy politeness, and then gestured to the living room. "I apologize for how untidy the home is, I was in the middle of my daily routine." _And you interrupted it_. Her mind said in the after thought.

"I'll be frank Ma'am. Paul is a Talent, as I'm sure you are aware. There was a small incident yesterday with some boys at the park. The incident was reported to the Police who asked that we, FT&T, look into it. After some research, I came to the conclusion that Paul was innocent, the boys were at fault, and that Paul has a large Talent." Her eyes got sharper with each word from Gollee's mouth, and her mind began to spew forth a river of venom. She was one of those people who were unaware of the fact that she constantly projected her thoughts. Most people only put their thoughts in their public mind, but Mrs. McHenry sent hers out in a continuous flow, assaulting the minds of Talents all around her.

"My Boy will not be a Talent, Mr.… Mr.… what did you say your name was sir?" Gren was sure he felt the room get colder as she spoke.

"My name is Gren, Gollee Gren, ma'am. However, the question is not if Paul will be a Talent, but rather if he will work for FT&T. You son is a Talent. He has Prime potential. That will not change no matter what you do. His Talent needs training, else he will likely become a Wild Talent and need to be sealed off from his mind. Before he got to be a Wild Talent, he'd probably do quite some damage to your home, your neighborhood, and maybe even the rest of the city before we caught him." His tone held just enough menace, and he could see the thoughts working through her mind. Finally she spoke.

"I won't have him living here while he learns **that**. I won't have him back in my home ever again. _You_ house him if his learning this is that important." Rising to her feet, she walked up the stairs, leaving Gren alone in the living room. A few moments later, she returned carrying a small suit case. "Here is Paul's clothing. He doesn't own anything else he'll be taking with him. Pick him up at school, he's yours now."

Ice dripped from her words, and her eyes were glaring holes through Gren's chest as she gave him the case. Sighing, Gren tried to find the words to calm her, to help her, but before he could formulate them, she spoke again.

"I love my son, but he's not anything like what I thought he would be when I was pregnant with him. Now he's not even my son anymore. Send me the papers whenever you will, and I'll release him legally." Her voice almost broke, but she kept it under control. "Now, _please_ leave my home, Mr. Gren, I think you've done enough."

Gren bowed his head and walked out. As he walked out, he couldn't close Mrs. McHenry's mental sobs out of his mind. Gren hoped Paul had inherited her mental strength of voice.

* * *

A short time later, Gren was sitting in the car outside the school. When he saw Paul coming, Gren sighed, and stepped out. News like this wasn't easy to deliver. When Paul saw him, he frowned, and Gren could feel the boy's mind clutching at his. Gren wouldn't let his mind into his own, instead forcing him to come to him for verbal communication.

"What did I tell you Paul? Verbal first, mental only if that fails." He smiled, to leech some of the sting from his words. "Paul, it looks like you're going to be working for FT&T, if that is what you want?"

The boy's face went from sullen to elated in a heartbeat. "You mean my parents are letting me go? Why? How? What did you say?"

"What I said doesn't matter. All that matters is that tomorrow, you begin your training as a Talent for FT&T." Gren spoke the words and opened the car's door, ushering Paul into a brand new world.


	2. Training

**_Earth, Blundell Building, NorthEastMetro, Old New York_**

Paul felt power surge all around him, banishing his quiet dream like dust motes in a strong wind, and he opened his eyes to see the other Talents around him waking too. That was his first reminder that Blundell was a functioning Tower, and had more generators than any other Tower Station in the system. Most Towers used between four and eight generators, more than enough to help any Prime spin the heaviest freighters and passenger liners to their destinations, but Earth Prime had 12 generators that all ran at full power throughout the working day.

It wasn't that Earth Prime was weaker than other Primes. The thing about Earth was that all the colonies and other worlds in the League needed to send goods, diplomats, and tourists into Mother Terra. Long ago, Earth Prime had decided that he need not be the focus of every link that ran in Blundell, and had assigned certain underlings their own generator, to allow them to handle the lighter packages.

As each generator surged and peaked, Paul could feel the power pulling at him. It was as if it were calling him, begging him to use it, but as he reached for it, he remembered the rules posted on the door to their dormitory.

**All Talents in Training:**

**These rules are to be followed at all times, and any departure from them will result in stiff penalties.**

**No unauthorized and unsupervised use of Talent, including, but not limited to, porting oneself, pathing one's thoughts to another student, and contacting family via path or port.**

**All students will be in their assigned dormitory by lights out, unless they have an official pass, signed by the head of their dormitory.**

**There will be no fighting in the dormitory.**

**Any and all physical activities must take place in either the gymnasium or the recreation field. No rough housing in the dormitory.**

**No food or drinks in the dormitory.**

**If you have any questions, please contact the head of your dormitory.**

The fact that it was the very first rule stuck in Paul's mind. It was obviously important to the people in charge, and he didn't want to have to return home and face his parents knowing he had failed at this too.

Quickly dressing in his street clothes, Paul went to the cafeteria, searching for the delicious smells that were tempting his nostrils. There was bacon, eggs, waffles, and what else, he couldn't tell by smell, but it all smelled good. Once he was there, he found a buffet style food line. Grabbing a tray, he noticed a sign alerting him to the price of the different items. Shocked, he stood still he didn't have enough to live at these kind of prices. The only item he could afford was a small bowl of plain oatmeal. Depressed, he took it to a table, and mixed in a thick pad of butter and a spoonful of brown sugar. At least those didn't cost extra.

As he stirred it, two other boys walked up, one had a slight greenish tinge to his skin, eyes, and hair, the other looked about as terran as possible, with blonde hair, hazel eyes, and unremarkable skin tone. They both wore smiles, and sat down at Paul's table.

"Hey there, I'm Mark, and this Greenie here is Sefran. He's Capellan, so don't let the tint put you off." The terran said in such friendly tones, that Paul couldn't help but smile.

"I'm Paul. Are you Talents too?" He blushed when they both laughed.

"Yes, Paul. We are, and I apologize for laughing at you. We are all here to train our Talent for FT&T. I'm a T-3, with a stronger emphasis on Port." Sefran said in quiet tones that matched his soothing chuckle. Mark was still grinning ear to ear.

"I'm only a lowly T-4, but I've got an even split on Path and Port." He said with a wink, "Where do you stand on the scale?"

Paul tried to think it through, he hadn't been assigned a number rating yet… though, he remembered Gren saying he had Prime potential.

"Well, when Talent Gren tested me, he said I had Prime potential… but he never told me where I rated officially." He was blushing a deep red now, as Mark gave a low whistle.

"Wowee… You rate then. Don't think it'll be easy or anything, just cause you might be a Prime. That just means they'll work you even harder." Marks tone dropped, and he leaned in to whisper to Sefran and Paul. "But that doesn't matter. I think we're gonna be friends no matter what."

They all laughed, almost nervously, the idea of their futures had spooked them. Deciding to move on, they all began to eat, and Paul stared longingly at the bacon and eggs on Mark's plate. It didn't take long for Mark to notice.

"What? Buyer's remorse? Decide you didn't really want that ol' healthy oatmeal?"

"No, it's just… it'sallIcouldafford." He said in a rush, blushing again.

Sefran took pity on him. "Paul, did you read the manual that was on your pillow last night?"

Paul shook his head. Sure, he'd skimmed it, but actually read it? No.

"Well, that's your problem. All new Talents are given a credit balance as a signing bonus. It's proportionate to your rating, after a required amount for food and clothing. Your Cred balance should be pretty high. Would you like me to check for you?" His politeness was a welcome breather from Mark's brusqueness. Apparently opposites really did attract.

Paul entered his ID number into Sefran's portable computer, and waited a moment, while the Capellan ran the numbers. After a heart beat, Sefran handed him the computer, and smiled.

"Press the enter button, and your balance will pop up. I didn't look, because that information is personal. Please close the window when you are done." He very carefully didn't look when Paul pressed the enter button. As the number came up, Paul's jaw dropped. He had never seen a balance that high before. He had 16,000 creds all assigned for food, clothing, and other essential needs. There was a note beside his balance, though cautioning him.

**This balance was deposited by FT&T for Paul McHenry's use throughout the year. The balance will not be added to by FT&T until next fiscal year. Should Mr. McHenry exhaust this balance, he will need to borrow against his first year's wages.**

Shocked, Paul closed the window.

"Are they still serving bacon?" He asked, and dashed off when Mark laughed and pointed.

* * *

"After the generator begins to shed parts, what is the first course of action…? Mr. Goslin?" The man stood at the front of the room, letting the words fall from his mouth in most monotonous voice Paul had ever heard. It took him a moment to realize the instructor had called on Sefran, who was sitting next to him. He elbowed the sleeping Cappelan, and tried to look innocent. 

Jerking awake, Sefran blushed an odd shade of brown, and quietly asked the instructor to repeat the question in a mortified tone.

"I asked what one should do first when a generator begins to shed parts. Which you would have heard if you weren't sleeping in my class." His tone, though monotone, was still sharp with sarcasm.

"Turn it off sir? Then patch through a backup?" Sefran's voice quivered with shame for falling asleep, but he relaxed a little when the instructor let a smile show.

"Exactly, if you learn that well asleep, we might have to insist all students sleep through my class." He frowned, and looked at his watch. "I suppose it's time for you all to move onto your porting class. Make sure you get there by normal means."

The class emptied slowly, as more than a few students were prodded awake by their friends. Paul, Sefran and Mark walked to the porting fields, where Cargomaster Feldman waited for the nine young talents. The classes based on theory were set up like a traditional classroom, with a lecturer and approximately 30 students. The classes that were practical, applying their Talent to strengthening their 'mental muscles', were much smaller, designed to give them more one on one with an instructor.

Once all the students were there, Feldman handed out a list of the various pods and cargoes that needed to be ported today during their lesson. Each student had a short list of items they had to port on their own, and there was an even shorter list that required them to link together and port as one.

Paul found these lessons to be the most interesting. He got to link with the minds of other young Talents, feeling their skills, their weaknesses, and helping augment them. Each time they were required to link, a different Talent was chosen to lead the link. Some had more finesse, and others were more prone to 'dropping' items, but Paul did his best to help the weaker minds along. A few times, Cargomaster Feldman discretely entered Paul's mind and told him to back off, and let the other students grow into their own strengths.

Today though, was different. Two months into their Training, and Cargomaster Feldman deviated from his normal routine. He handed out the lists, but when the students looked to him for permission to begin porting, he shook his head.

"Students, today we will be doing things a little differently. We're taking a field trip." He broke into a smile. "You've all been excused from the rest of your lessons for today, and for the next three days." The students began chattering ecstatically and Feldman let them for a moment, and then coughed, to interrupt their noise.

"I want you to all _reach_ for your clothing. You need one day's work attire fit for a proper Tower, aside from that, bring clothing for a warm, moist environment… a swim suit might be needed, if you're modest." They all started chattering again, trying to think of which Tower they would be going to. "I said get packing! Bring a carisack too."

Each of the students began bringing their clothing and bags, still talking excitedly. Paul, Mark and Sefran had each picked a different Tower in a different spot on Earth. While Blundell handled all the out of system traffic, there were 180 Sub-Stations that handled all the on-planet traffic. There were quite a few in warm weather areas, but only about 20 had clean-water beaches where swimming was allowed.

Mark was sure they were going to the BaCa substation, at the tip of the California peninsula, but Sefran thought the weather there was too unpredictable right now. He thought they would be going to the Oceania substation. Paul, went the opposite direction. His guess was the Greco-Italian substation. However, Feldman proved them all wrong, and as they packed into a small personnel shuttle, he announced they were being ported to the La Plata substation, near Old Argentina's capitol. It was their late summer right now, and the students would have plenty of time to enjoy the heat and sun.

They were barely in the shuttle for a heartbeat, when they felt one of Earth Prime's seconds grasp their vehicle with his augmented mind. Paul could tell, from his mind touch, that it was Talent Merril, one of Earth Prime's newer assistants. Merril had a few tertiary minds linked with him, and they were all leaning on the generator, but the port was done smoothly. Merril's pride and satisfaction in his port was obvious to Paul.

When they stepped out of the shuttle, the heat hit them like a wave. It wasn't just heat, it was moist heat. Feldman quickly lead them into the Tower, where they were met by an official looking man.

"Frank, this is my class. Is there anything you have to say before you and your team head out?" Feldman said to the official looking man, as if they'd been friends for many years.

"Only this Matthew, treat my station well, or Earth Prime will hear of every detail that is out of place." The official looking man turned on his heel and walked crisply out of the Tower.

"Well class, you heard him. Paul, you're acting Prime. Take the seat. Mark, I want you and Sefran to get Paul a cargo list and help the other students get that cargo ready to throw. All of you know how to do this, and should know the methods. Go to it. I will be watching, and grading your activities today." Feldman sat down in a comfortable looking chair, and began writing on his pad. The students quickly began moving, Paul to the Prime's station, Sefran to the station master's chair, and Mark to the Second in Command spot.

As Paul scanned his lists, he noted that most of the stuff they were handling was inanimate, and non-fragile. FT&T was obligated to tell their contracts that a student team would be handling the porting on this day. Suddenly, he felt other minds prodding at his.

_Paul, we need to link. Open up._ It was Mark. Blushing, Paul opened his mind, and took in Mark's, which already held the linked minds of the other seven students. The weakest mind in the group was a T-9, whose primary skill was managing electrics. Mery could find electrical shorts, generator problems, and friction in the subsystems almost before the sensors told her they existed. Once she knew they were there, she could fix them just as quickly. After Paul, came Sefran and Mark, T-3 and T-4 respectively, and after them a pair of T-5s, a T-6, and a T-8. Paul felt each mind as it moved in sync with his own. They were working as a station team.

_First item, twelve pods of mercantile goods to Blundell._ Sefran meant the thought to go to Mark, but Paul heard it anyway.

_Let's make this good folks. Our first port is to home. We need to make sure they don't think we're a bunch of clumsy lack wits._ Paul laughed, and felt the generator revving up to peak. As he reached through it, he grabbed the twelve pods, gently, and his mind leapt across the planet.

_Blundell, this is La Plata. Mercantile goods to be transported. Item ID: 43-678-0945. Is there a bay waiting for it?_

_La Plata, feel free to send them on through._ The mind that met Paul's was strong, firm, and unfamiliar to Paul. _We should have met sooner Paul, I am Jeff Raven. Why don't you send me those pods._

Shocked, Paul almost lost the link, but blushingly, he corrected, and was able to make the port with no bumps or glitches.

_Good job Paul, don't let my fame fluster you. I'm a normal man, and I'm sure you'll do fine._

Reassured, Paul thanked Earth Prime and moved on. The next port went to Oceania, it was only three pods of ore. The next few loads were just as boring, but after a load to LondonMetro station, they received a surprise.

A short woman, with dark hair and eyes walked in.

"May I speak with the stationmaster?" Her voice had the soft tones of someone who had studied Spanish and was almost husky. Sefran politely turned from his station and walked to speak to her.

_People, we'll figure out what's happening there later. Mark, move over to Sefran's station, and tell me what's coming next._

_We've got a load of sculptures and vases to be sent to Blundell._

_Sounds good._ He grabbed the pod and lifted it, sending it to Blundell. Before he could ask for another load, Sefran interrupted.

_Paul, Ms. De La Venta would like us to transport her to the Lunar station. She says there isn't time to go to Blundell._

Paul looked to Feldman, trying to decide if it was acceptable to break with protocol for this. The cargomaster shook his head.

_You're Prime Paul, decide what to do._

Looking back to Sefran, Paul nodded. _Put her in the single carrier Sefran._

He turned to his info screen, and looked up the Lunar Station's details, finding the name of its highest Talent… Talent Filips.

_Lunar Station, this is LaPlata Station. We've got a last minute addition to the schedule. A Ms. De la Venta, who needs to be transported to your station, is there a bay clear for her?_

There was a pause. _What did you say her name was… this isn't Frank. Who are you, and why does she want to come here?_

Shocked, Paul hadn't even thought about that.

_Lunar, I'll be getting back to you in a moment. _He turned his mind to Sefran. _Did she say why she wanted to go to Lunar?_

_Yes, she said her Father was ill up there, and needed her immediately._

_Thanks, Sefran._ Back to Lunar, Paul spoke apologetically. _Lunar, I apologize for not having those details at hand. My name is Paul McHenry, I am in training right now. However, to business at hand. Ms. De la Venta said she needs to see her father, who is on your station, and ill._

_That can't be correct. We don't have any De la Ventas on Lunar. Hold her where she is._

Shocked, Paul wrapped his mind around the woman in the pod, and suddenly felt another mind pressing against his. Drawing deeper on the link with his team, and the generator, he clenched onto the mind in the pod. Opening the door with his mind, he spoke to the woman inside.

"Ms. De la Venta, please step outside so we can speak." Paul's voice was firm, and he was proud that his voice didn't shake. Her mind was strong, and pressing against his as she stepped out of the pod.

"Well, young man. It's nice to meet such a strong, young mind. If you'd let my mind go, I'll be glad to explain myself to you." There was a quiet menace in her voice that Paul didn't like.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry. I was asked to detain you. I'll need to speak to my superior before I can release your mind." Her said as politely as he could. Her mind was still pressing against his in a steady effort.

_Earth Prime, do you have a moment for something urgent?_

_Yes, Paul, but make it quick._

Quickly explaining the situation, Paul tried to give as much detail as he could, until Earth Prime stopped him.

_Just take me into your link, and we'll go into her mind. Ask her first._

"_Ma'am, may I have permission to scan your mind? If that scan finds nothing of note, we'll have you at Lunar within moments."_ He said and pathed his message, making sure Earth Prime was involved in the Link.

"If you must." Her voice had lost all veneer of kindness.

_We have permission, Earth Prime._ Paul spoke to Earth Prime and led their minds into hers.

It was a maze. Most people's minds were chaotic and a jumble, but hers was rigid and ordered. The thoughts she made were linear, yet smoky. Paul and Jeff could barely see the thought processes that made her mind work.

_Well, you seem to have found an odd one Paul… You aren't seeing any more than I am are you?_

_No, Earth Prime, he's not. I don't want you to see my thoughts, or why I have them._ Her mind dripped with venom, and it was as if she had become some vengeful lioness, and sank her mental claws and teeth into the invading minds.

Shocked, Paul and Jeff struggled, trying to escape, but it was futile. They were well and trapped.

_Why are you doing this?_ Jeff kept struggling, straining against her mind.

_Because. I have my orders. I will be going to the Lunar base, and I will get there today._

Just then, it was as if their world went dark around them.

"And that is the primary weakness of Talents, students. If you ever stop paying attention to your surroundings a man with a club can come up behind you." Feldman said as he hefted his clipboard. "Paul, are you OK?"

Shaken, Paul turned to him and nodded, then thought again, his mind leaping back to Earth Prime._ Are you OK, sir?_

_Yes, Paul. I'm none the worse for wear. Please thank Talent Feldman, and take Ms. De la Venta into custody. Put her into a shielded carrier, and port her here to Blundell. Make sure she doesn't wake before she gets into the carrier._

Drawing on the link, Paul ported the woman's limp body into a special carrier designed to transport unwieldy Talents. Once she was inside, he sighed, relieved, and turned back to his team.

_OK, folks, let's go back to work._ The rest of the day's labor went quickly. The team sent the packages and pods spinning out quickly, and as the sun set they let the generators idle and eventually die. Smiling, Paul turned to his team.

"Thanks folks. You all did wonderfully, no matter what Feldman or Earth Prime say, I know you did a great job." He spoke loudly, and smiled broadly. Noticing Cargomaster Feldman standing at the rear of the group, he gestured to the older man.

"Well, Paul, I agree with you. Your team did well, even under unusual circumstances. Good job. Now, tonight, we're all going to the Tower quarters for visiting Talents. Tomorrow, we'll be taking some time to see the beaches of this side of South America." With a wave of his hand, the young Talents wearily passed him, heading for the Talent Quarters, where their gear had been delivered at their arrival.

As Paul passed the older Talent, Feldman reached out and grabbed his arm.

"A moment with you Paul." Once the other young talents were outside, Feldman walked back to the chair he had occupied through most of the day. "You performed very well Paul, admirably even. You've been in Training for less than two months now, and while it's not unheard of for Talent to finish Training that quickly, it is unheard of for Primes to finish their Training that rapidly. The closest thing we have is Earth Prime, who emerged as a Prime and was immediately contracted and brought in to work. The main difference between you and he, is he was an adult at the time, and he proved himself in a very dramatic manner. One you don't have access to."

Paul held himself tense, waiting for a boot to fall, for something to go wrong, but Feldman just sighed.

"You've learned all you can here. Sure, you could take up a position as a second to Earth Prime, but that would be a waste of your strength. Earth Prime asked me to watch you today and think on how ready you are to be assigned to another Planet. I think you're ready. Of course, you wouldn't be running your own Tower yet, but you would be working with the Prime whose Tower you were assigned to, and after that, pending their report, you might be assigned to your own Tower." He couldn't help himself, and broke into a smile, and Paul leapt with joy.

"You mean it? I'll get to leave this old rock?" His smile crept from ear to ear, and he couldn't hold back laughter anymore.

"Yes, yes you will. Just remember, the others don't, and shouldn't, know anything about this. Do not leak it to them."

* * *

The next days went by in a blur. There were sandy beaches, fast waves, and hours of sunning and playing. The nine students and their instructor all relaxed, and became a group of friends, though one more senior than the others. All the while, Paul kept one mental wall up, locking the conversation he had had with Feldman away from prying minds. He was sure Mark and Sefran knew there was something there, but he managed to keep them out without hurting their bond. 

When their break came to an end, all the returning Talents were brown or red from hours in the sun, and all were refreshed and ready to get back to Training. When their personnel carrier popped into its cradle at Blundell, the first Face Paul saw was Gollee Gren's.

"I hear your short tour of duty went well students. Report back to your dorm, and check your info screens for orders. Paul, you will be coming with me." His characteristic smile didn't miss a beat, but Paul felt the tension floating in his public mind.

"Sir, may I ask why I am to go with you?" He said as he walked beside Gollee.

"Of course you can ask… I might not answer you, though." Gollee's sense of humor was still working. "No, Paul. I'll answer you. You're coming with me because Earth Prime interviews all T-3s and above who are about to be stationed. You get to have a face to face with him, thought maybe I should say, you have to have a face to face with him."

Gollee led him down a maze of halls and tunnels, similar to where Paul had been brought for his test, but still in an entirely different region of the building. At an official looking, yet unmarked, door, Gollee stopped. Paul could sense the tight mental shaft he sent inside, but didn't try to listen in. That would be the worst thing he could do in this interview.

"Now, Paul, do your best. That's all we can ask. Don't lie to him, not even to make yourself look better, or to hide a fault. He'll figure it out. You've got a good mind in your head, I'm sure you'll do well." Gollee's voice was low and meant just for Paul, and as he finished speaking, the door slid open, and there was Jeff Raven.

"Come in Paul."

* * *

A/N: As always, feel free to criticize as harshly as you feel the need to. I want to improve. :) 


	3. Towered

A/N: Thank you for the kind reviews, they mean a lot. :)

* * *

"Come in Paul." Jeff's voice was deep, and rich, it was all Paul could do not to smile at him as if he were an old friend.

"Thank you Earth Prime. I'm sorry, but I don't really know the procedures for this kind of interview… what is supposed to happen?" Paul asked once they were both behind closed doors. Jeff let his grin show as he gestured to a seat for Paul, and took his own behind the big glass topped desk.

"Well, Paul. These interviews are relatively rare. We train few T-3s and above, Primes are even rarer." He rubbed his chin, and frowned. "Perhaps, tell me your thoughts about Ms. De la Venta."

Tenting his fingers, Paul looked into Earth Prime's eyes, feeling the older Talent's mind touching his own. "Well, her mind was unlike any I've ever encountered. It didn't follow the normal rules, but it didn't feel like it was naturally like that. Her mind was strong enough to hold mine and yours without strain… I wonder how she got that strong, where she came from, and why she wanted to get to Luna."

Jeff's mind ran along the surface of Paul's, filling all the tiny cracks in his walls, accessing every minute detail of his public mind. "That's good Paul, now, I know you can feel me reading your public mind, but I now must ask your permission to delve deeper. I need to do a deep read of your mind. It is your choice, however, make it well. If you refuse, you cannot be stationed off Terra, and most likely will be fired from FT&T. Such a termination will require you to pay back all the forwards you've received from FT&T, with interest. If you let me read you, provided you pass, you will be stationed off Terra, and will then be stationed with an eye for your own Tower. I don't tell you this to scare you, or make you choose how I would like. Rather, I want you informed."

Paul licked his lips. Setting his walls tight, he quickly thought to himself, _I can refuse, and put myself in debt for the next twenty years, plus put myself back in my parents' home. Or, I can let him in and he'll see everything… this should be an easy choice… but it's not. My mind is my last refuge…_

"Earth Prime, look all you want." Relaxing his mind, Paul lowered his walls, and tried to let his mind flow as freely as possible. Suddenly, there was a wave of thought filling his mind, seeping into each crevice of his being, soaking him in Earth Prime. He could feel Earth Prime reading each memory, each thought, paying more attention to the things that seemed important to Paul, and less to the mundane details of his life.

After what seemed like hours of treading water in molasses, Paul felt Jeff's mind pulling back from his own. Earth Prime smiled, and Paul could see the tension leaving his face and body.

"You passed, easily. Most people have something they don't want to give up… something they try to hide… you are remarkably open Paul, try to keep that. Trust that deep will make your friendships last through all your years." Turning in his chair, Earth Prime pulled up a few folders on the holo-screen. "There are currently three Towers I would like to station you at, Paul. All three are good stations where you'll learn very much, and get to use your considerable strength."

He clicked on the first folder, bringing up the details of Capella. The Prime was called by her station name, Capella, and she was getting on in years. She had been Towered before the Rowan and Jeff Raven were even born. She herself was Terran, but her staff was mainly of Capellan origin. The planet itself was extremely "dry". They lived by their Method, and expected all off-planet visitors to do so as well.

Jeff watched as Paul read the folder, and when he reached the end, the second folder was opened. Calisto. The Rowan was well known, even years after she first settled into the Tower on Jupiter's moon. Many of Paul's trainers had commented on how capricious she was, and how often she had changed her team of staff. Her mind was second only to Jeff Raven's, and when the two worked together, they were like no other pair. Something about living in a dome didn't appeal to Paul, and he sighed when he saw the next folder open.

Iota Aurigae was still a young planet, the colonists known as being more than self-reliant. Since the colony was established, it had quickly erased its debts and built up a healthy credit balance with the many military contracts they received after the Beetles attacked. Their Tower was manned by Damia Raven-Lyon, the daughter of the Rowan and Jeff Raven. Besides Damia, her husband Afra Lyon, and whichever of their children were home bolstered the small team of Talents that held the Tower.

Paul looked up, and laughed at the twinkle in Jeff Raven's eyes.

"I take it you want me to go to Iota Aurigae?"

"If I told you that, it wouldn't be your choice would it?" Jeff's eyes were shining now.

"Hmmm… Capella has always interested me. Greenies are interesting folk." He laughed loudly when Jeff's eyes boggled. "I joke, I joke. However, I would like to make one request. Can Mark and Sefran come with me? I work well with them, and would enjoy furthering that rapport."

"I'm sorry Paul, but the two of them need to go receive their training elsewhere. I'll consider your rapport later, but for now, you've each been assigned your own stationings." There was genuine regret in his eyes, so Paul steeled himself, and smiled.

"Well, they're only a thought away. When do I leave for Iota Aurigae?"

"Good attitude to have Paul. You'll leave as soon as you're ready. Though, of course you'll have time to make your goodbyes to your friends. Sefran should be outside my office right now. Step out there, speak to him for a moment, and then send him in here. Let me know when you're going to send him in." He tapped his temple, indicating that Paul was to path that news.

As Paul walked up to the door, it slid open, revealing the small lobby, once he was through it quietly whooshed closed behind him. Sitting quietly in a chair with his hands folded neatly, Sefran gave a quiet chuckle when he saw Paul.

"I should have known you'd be here. May I ask where you're being stationed?" He was polite, as always, but there was an underlying hint of familiar sarcasm.

"I'm off to Iota Aurigae… I missed Capella by the skin of my teeth." His face made an exaggerated caricature of a pious Methody Capellan.

"Now Paul, you would have been able to meet my family, if you'd gone to Capella. I'm sure Mother and Father would love to meet you." His tone was stern, but his smile belied it.

"Do you think Earth Prime will let me reconsider?" His wink and tone were enough to let Sefran know he wasn't serious. "I'm supposed to leave as soon as I've made my goodbyes. You know you can always path me, right Sefran? It doesn't matter if I'm in the Tower, asleep, any time day or night." Before the Capellan could object, Paul pulled him into a tight hug, and then released him.

_I'll be sending him in, in a moment Earth Prime._

"Yes Paul, I know. You know that the same holds for you." With a smile, he turned and walked to the office door. "I'm to go in now, right?" The door slid open before Paul could say yea or nay.

* * *

Back in the dorm, Paul quietly packed everything he owned. It was a pathetically small pack, but it was all his. Mark had already left to spend his evening with his family, telling them the good news about his stationing at Altair. Paul held his resentment and bitterness in check. Mark was lucky he had a family who cared what happened to him. After a heartbeat of moping, Paul pulled out his info screen, and accessed the email program.

_Mother and Father,_

_I am being stationed on Iota Aurigae, where I will finish my training as an FT&T Talent. If you need to contact me, send all communiqué there. Please do not be ashamed of me._

_Paul_

Sending that message took all the courage he had, but once the button was pressed, it was too late to do anything about it, so he moved on. Outside, in the station yard, Paul found Cargomaster Feldman.

"Well, Paul, I suppose you know where you're headed now, yes? Get in that pod over there, and we'll get Earth Prime to send you off in style." He said with a wink. Getting into the pod, Paul chuckled at how the crews leapt to obey the Cargomaster. Once he was settled, Paul felt Earth Prime pick up his carrier, breathing deeply, wondering when he would be transferred, how it would feel, what would happen. Then the pod opened.

"_Hello? Anyone in there?"_ The voice was definitely feminine. Climbing out, Paul smiled to a room with a few Talents in it, mainly middle aged lower level Talents, but two minds stood out above the others.

"Yes, I'm here. Paul McHenry, reporting for duty at Iota Aurigae." He was polite, made his bow properly, and held his bag in just the proper manner.

"_I like this one Damia, he has manners."_ A deep baritone voice chuckled_. "Come up to the Tower so you can see the faces that go with the voices."_ It was only then that Paul realized the other two Talents had been Pathing to him.

Quickly climbing the steps, he walked into a fully functional Tower, with three couches, two in use at the moment. Lying on one was a petite woman with luxurious black hair, and a single white stripe, though she was graying at her temples. Next to her was a tall, lean Capellan who looked oddly like Sefran.

"Paul, my father thinks you'll mesh well with Afra and me, are you ready for a day's work? You happen to have arrived right at the beginning of our day, I know it was the end of yours when you left, but I hope you're up to it." Damia's voice matched her mental voice perfectly, and Paul smiled as he took the empty couch.

"I think I can handle anything you'll give me." His fingers danced across the panel, bringing up the data on their schedule. "Wooooeee! Look at those ore drones. Those are damn close to FT&T Max weights…"

"Yep, they're built to hold, at full capacity, exactly fifty pounds under max weight. They just need to make sure that their crew isn't too over-weighted." Damia's laughter was infectious, but Paul held it in, for fear of Afra's stern look.

"Paul, I want you to link with me first, and then I'll yield us over to Damia. We'll try linking this way today, and see if there's a better way tomorrow." Afra's mind touch was firm, and oddly minty, and as Paul's mind linked tightly with his, Paul felt the strength of it.

_I thought your official rating was T-2?_ Paul queried the Capellan.

A deep chuckle resounded in his mind. _Officially, yes. Years of working with the Rowan, and later my heart of hearts, have broadened my perceptions. I started out my FT&T career as a lowly T-4._

Realizing they were waiting on him, Paul relaxed his mind further, and just accepted Afra's guidance. After a heart beat of polite probing, Afra handed the link over to Damia, and when she took it the world seemed to shrink. Being in that link felt like holding enough power to reshape the cosmos.

_Gentlemen, the day begins._ Damia's voice was light and crisp as she 'reached' for the first drone._ Paul, already you're worth having here. You're as helpful as any of my children, and you mesh right. Good on you._

Straining to keep his mind working strong, Paul didn't bother answering in words, and just let his gratitude and demurring fill his public mind. As the Prime sent the drone spinning out to Procyon, Paul felt a gentle tapping at his elbow.

"Keep your mind working with Damia, but focus on me now." Afra spoke out loud, "My duties involve organizing the line up of loads to be shipped. Right now, Damia's working through the list I set up this morning. What I want you to do is go through the list of shipping requests, organize them by priority and by fragility. Your info screen on the left panel will give you access to the systems you need."

As the Capellan spoke, Paul felt his mind tapped over and over again, sending packages hurtling through the void. Damia worked at a steady pace, and never drew too deeply on her link. The line up of packages appeared on the screen, and Paul's heart lurched. They were down to twelve items and Damia had the first of them in her grip. He quickly opened the requests system and began rifling through it, hunting out the most important shipments, the time sensitive ones, and those that were fragile or animate. By the time he had a list begun, Damia was down to three items in the original list. Just as she lifted the last item, Paul forwarded his new list of 25 items to her screen, and he sighed as she smiled.

"Good job Paul, timing is perfect." The twinkle in her eye was enough to raise Paul's flagging spirits. As the sun climbed into the sky, Paul heard an odd clicking noise, nothing like the noise of a failing generator, something he'd never heard before.

"OK, people, let's break for lunch. The 'dinis brought it down to the Tower for us, so no one need lift a finger." Damia didn't seem tired at all as she vaulted out of her couch, and pulled Afra to his feet. "Come on Paul, we need to introduce you to the staff."

Stepping through the doorway to the Tower steps, Paul stopped, standing stalk still. He had heard Damia say the 'dinis but it hadn't registered in his head that she meant there were mrdinis here. Gathering himself, Paul squelched all thoughts about their oddities (fur of all things!) and reminded himself that differences only make groups stronger. He didn't want to be like those idiots from home. Seating himself he thanked the dini that brought him a plate of steaming plate of Thai style curry fried rice. Smiling, he looked at Damia quizzically.

"We took the initiative to look into your dining habits when we heard you were coming here." Afra gave the answer, but Paul could feel agreement in Damia's mind.

"You did all that this morning? I only agreed to come here today." He was confused now, and guessing that Earth Prime had indeed planned for him to come here.

"My Father is known for his machinations. I'm sure you'll get used to them, just don't ever stop trying to be your own person. He hates that." Breaking off there, she clicked an odd series of noises at the 'dinis and turned back to Paul. "I just asked the 'dinis to take your bag up to the Family Home, unless you'd prefer staying with the Tower staff? There isn't much of a night life here, so you won't be missing much at all."

Touched, Paul bowed as much as his seated position would allow. "My thanks, I would love to live with you and your family. It might take some adjusting, from what I hear you have a large brood of children… I am my parents' only child, and my only cousin lives on the other side of North America." Damia and Afra laughed at his little speech.

"Well, you heard right. We do have a large brood, but you won't see many here. Our eldest is Prime on the Mrdini home world, her younger brothers are both roving Primes currently with the Navy, our next eldest daughter is a Medical T-1, the next two daughters are both on a Learning trip of duty with their older sister, and our youngest two went to live with their Great-Grandmother on Deneb. Isthia Raven was lacking in youngsters, so we loaned ours for the season." Damia smiled, and took a last bite of her own fried rice. "It's time to get back to work men, women, and 'dinis!"

* * *

Days passed and Paul's link with Damia and Afra grew stronger. It didn't take long for the two older Talents to begin relying on the younger, allowing him to man the Tower alone, to guide ports, and to handle some of the relatively rare mining emergencies that happened from time to time. As the weeks passed, Paul's strength and proficiency grew so that soon he was the equal to any Prime in the League. Finally, one morning came, where Paul found himself walking up the Tower steps with a new sense of confidence. His first load of the day was a personnel carrier with Damia and Afra inside it. They were going to pick up their youngest children and then visit Terra to let the children visit their Grandparents.

A quick port, and the pair was out of system, leaving Paul in charge on Iota Aurigae. Smiling, he ran his fingers over the panels, the couch, for a moment forgetting the other two couches, letting his mind idle and pretend that this was his own Tower. After a moment, the beep of the comm. unit out of his reverie.

"Prime, we have a schedule to keep to." The T-6 who was handling the scheduling while the Raven-Lyons were gone was a bit sticky about his pride, and the procedures that FT&T must follow. He also did not like having a 16 year old giving him orders.

"Yes then, send it to my info screen." Paul said and as it appeared, he listened for the generators to reach their peak, and then tapped them at just the right moment, sending the first drone flying through space. After the polite mental 'handshake' with Capella, he reached for the next drone, and settled into a neat rhythm. Drone after carrier, after drone after carrier, and soon he was lost in the pulse of the generator and his own thrust. It was a wonderful feeling, but almost as soon as he began enjoying it, the morning ended and it was time for the lunch break.

The moment he stepped into the Tower, the T-6 came to the stairs and stood in front of him. He was an Altairian, and older, old enough to be Paul's grandfather.

"Young man, you must learn first and foremost that the Prime must keep to his schedule and must care for the personnel under him." Before he could continue, Paul raised his hand, silencing the older man.

"My title, for now, is Prime. I run this Tower how I see fit. T-6 Merynt, you are out of line." Paul's voice was cool, and he did his best to keep himself from bursting.

"Fine then, 'Prime'. I still stand by my comment." He was doing his best to be insulting now.

"T-6, I do not think you are suited to my personality. I understand that Earth Prime felt you would be suited to assisting me while Prime Raven-Lyon and T-2 Lyon are off world, however, I think his judgment is faulty." Turning back to walk into the Tower, Paul stopped at the man's snorting noise.

"So the child Prime feels he can just get rid of anyone who disputes his management. Such a mature response." Paul ignored him, and continued into the Tower.

_T-6 Merynt, into the personnel carrier. Can I get a generator online? Merynt, your belongings will be forwarded on to your next station._ Paul felt the generator come online, and build power, then as it reached the perfect pitch, he tapped it, lifting the carrier off of Iota Aurigae. _Earth Prime, please look into restationing Talent Merynt. The man is unsuited to working with me._

_Of course Paul, may I ask why you feel he is unsuited?_

Making sure Merynt could hear his voice, Paul replied _He directly confronted me on a spurious issue in front of the entire station crew. While he made a valid point, his manner in bringing it to my attention was both insulting and caused a conflict in the station._

_Very well Prime, I will send another Talent to you by the end of the work day on Iota Aurigae. Please forward FT&T's apologies to any clients whose shipments must be deferred due to your understaffing._

As Paul let his mind idle, he left the Tower and came back to the lunch room, he saw the shocked expressions on the faces of the Tower crew.

"I apologize for that unpleasantness. T-6 Merynt was unsuited to working with me; however, I do not want any of you to be afraid of coming to me with critique. However, there are proper lines of communication for that. Feel free to path me when we are not currently working on business, or send me an email. However, direct confrontations are not the method to use." He said that and sat down at a seat, reaching for a sandwich. "Thanks to whoever put this all together."

Chatter took a moment to come back, filling the small room, and Paul felt the tensions subsiding. It was always best to keep an open communication with the Tower crew. The rest of the day went by without occasion, and just as the day was ending, an emergency shipment warning came into Paul's info screen. It was from Terra, and Paul felt his hopes and fears rise. It was the replacement for Merynt.

His mind touched Earth Prime's but the older Talent wouldn't give anything away. As the transfer occurred, Paul tried probing the mind within the carrier and was shocked to find two minds. Smiling, he leapt from his couch and down the stairs just as Sefran and Mark appeared in the doorway. The three friends hugged, talked, and were about to begin chatting more, when Paul felt a gentle probe in his mind, he blushed and smiled at his friends.

"We've got a little bit left in the work day lads, do you mind waiting here for me?"

"Why should we wait? Show us into your Tower, and let us help you out." Mark was still Mark.

Within moments, the three young men were working, their minds linked so closely that an outsider wouldn't be able to tell where one ended and the next began. Within minutes they had sent all the remaining shipments out, received the last of the incoming, and were looking for more.

As the three young Talents walked down the stairs, the older Talents of the crew began porting away, driving off to their respective homes, or even just walking back to the town. Paul looked at his friends and couldn't help but laugh. They stood there, holding their bags, and looking lost.

"Boys, I don't think Damia and Afra would mind you occupying the spare rooms in their home while you're here. Why don't you come back with me?" With a smile and a wink, Paul wrapped his mind around the three Talents and ported them into the Family room of the Raven-Lyon home.

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A/N: So... reviews, critique, flames, whatever you've got for me. :) 


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